Dragon Age Origins: Flight of the Wardens
by Pureheaven
Summary: The Dragon age, an age of dragons, and an age of Blight. Seven Wardens stand against the Darkspawn, fighting against the apocalypse. Things won't quite happen like they should. Terrible summary, but in a nutshell, all the possible Wardens will be participating, and a slew of characters from my own invention. Plus, a LOT of things will be different.
1. Chapter 1- The fall of Castle Cousland

Dark.

Cold and damp.

High stone walls and metal bars. The young man shifted his weight from side to side on the stone slab floor. He couldn't hear anything but his own breathing; he couldn't see anything but the slight flicker of a candle outside the barred door.

He groaned and placed his head back into his hands.

: _ :

The castle was quiet he thought, maybe even too quiet. "My lord," another guard tilted his head in acknowledgement as Seth Cousland scoured the tall and stony moonlight halls of Highever castle. "Should I say that too?" Seth glanced behind his shoulder to Ser Gilmore, still dressed in his armor and sporting the standard guard shield and sword. Rory had always been the same, deathly loyal to his noble lord, striving to be the exemplary knight. "Depends," Seth started with a teasing grin. "Do you want to lick my boots clean as well, Rory?" The Knight smirked and gestured to the jet black hound trotting happily in front of the two, sniffing everything it could get its moist nose too. "Well, I wouldn't want the dog getting jealous," they both laughed loudly and the hound took a moment to growl before resuming his sniffing.

Seth Cousland was the ire of many noble brats. Born with more gifts than any would deem reasonable for one with such wealth and power. Light brown hair framed a slim and attractive face. Bright green eyes analysed everything without missing a single detail. His tall muscled frame swung most weapons as if they truly were just an extra limb. Yes, Seth did leave most envious.

And he loved it.

"I wonder when Howe's men will arrive?" Again Rory spoke as he loyally followed Seth down the stone hallways, arms crossed behind his back. Seth frowned, and pressed his lips into a thin line. "Don't know. My brother has already left with most of the army, so now would be a brilliant time to invade." Ser Gilmore nearly tripped.

"My lord! You mustn't say such things."

"You didn't see the man squirm when the Grey Warden showed up," Seth said looking back at Rory, eyebrows still furrowed. "I don't trust him. The man's a conniving snake," Rory sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I think you're off the mark on this one, my lord," he didn't get an answer as the second Cousland son had already turned a corner, obedient hound following. Rory himself quickly shuffled after the shirt and trouser clad noble.

: _ :

The young man held out his hand, staring at it intensely before a flicker of light flashed out. He focused again and it exploded into a ball of light, illuminating the jail cell. He sighed, leaning back against the wall and directing the ball with his finger. He was an attractive man of average height and slim weight. Locks of shaggy black hair were matted with mud and dirt and his deep blue eyes looked bored as they followed the glowing sphere of light.

The candle before the dungeon exit flickered and shadowed three frames against the stone hallway. He quickly squeezed his hand shut, snuffing out the magical sphere. The shadows grew larger as the scuffing of boots became more apparent. He closed his eyes.

: _ :

"Yoo-hoo! Where are you mage?" Seth yelled out with a smile on his face. Ser Gilmore shook his head and leant against the doorway under the light of the candle. Seth turned around to his Mabari hound. "Tennant, stay with Rory alright," the hound huffed and thumped down next to the knight. "Who's a good boy? Oh, and you're a good boy too Tennant," Seth smiled widely and the red haired knight looked in the other direction. The Cousland knew which buttons to push on the knight to get a laugh, but he knew Rory was stubborn as well. Still, with both the knight and hound stationed at the stairway on lookout he turned on his heel and slowly walked down the hallway, dragging both hands along the cold stone.

He smiled again when he spotted the mage behind thick metal bars.

"Enjoying your stay? Mister…?"

The mage didn't answer. Seth coughed.

"I said, 'are you enjoying your stay? Mister…?'" Still no answer. Seth sighed in mock exasperation and leant against the stone wall, sliding down until he sat with his legs crossed. "Alright, fine. I'm Seth. I happened to hear you were a mage? I've never really seen much mage-ige before, none the less an Apostate," the mages jaw clenched.

Seth smirked. "Oh, don't we like that word, Apostate?"

"I have a name, and it's Ewan Amell, you pompous idiot," the mage spat with his fists clenched. Seth ignored the insults; he didn't care for petty words. Let the mage hate him, he would get what he wanted one way or another. "Well, Ewan," the noble spoke without looking at the mage. "That wasn't so hard, was it? If you had of just told me from the get go we could've avoided the unneeded name calling," Ewan didn't answer. "So, how did you end up here?"

"Why do you care?"

"Don't really, I just love meeting and getting to know new people," the mage scoffed and stared at the man.

"Fine, if the Templers are already on their way than I guess I've got nothing to lose," Ewan sighed, slouching against the stone wall. The other man shrugged and looked to the ceiling. "Alright. I _was_ a mage of the circle. I had just passed my harrowing-"

"Harrowing?"

"I can't tell you. Magic business, not overly interesting. Anyway, I had this friend, Jowan; we were all the other had for as long as I can remember to be honest. He asked me for help-"

"Didn't end well?"

"If you don't stop interrupting I won't keep talking," Seth held up his hands defensively at the mage's glare. He smiled though, Ewan hadn't meant it. Judging by the smile, the mage was enjoying himself.

At least, he thought so, until Ewan Amell frowned and sighed.

"You're right though. He wanted me to help him destroy his Phylactery, which is a vial of blood Templars use to track mages down should they escape. He wanted it gone so he could escape with some Chantry initiate that he loved, but he mostly wanted it destroyed because he was going to be made tranquil," Seth nodded, he'd seen a tranquil before in Denerim, it made him sick. To feel nothing. Even the monotone voice was disturbing. Seth could sympathise with Ewan's mage friend.

Ewan took a breath and continued. "I stupidly said yes. He was my friend, I would've done anything for him. So, after a long enough time of slinging fireballs and lightning bolts at animated suits of armor," Seth's face lit up in excitement but Ewan ignored him. "We found the Phylactery and destroyed it. Yet, on our way out we were found. And Jowan," Ewan clenched his fist. "He used blood magic and damn near killed us all. He ran. Lilly, the woman he loved cried in the corner. I used what energy I had to heal the First Enchanter and the Templars, and then I ran too. I was not going to executed or sent to Aeonar. So I've been running since, stealing what I needed, not using any magic lest the Templars sense me. Recently I got to a farm hold around here and snuck into a barn to sleep. Still, I woke up with a sword in my face and then one thing led to another and I was brought here to wait for the Templars."

Seth didn't say a word, he just stared at the ceiling. "Got nothing to say? I thought you loved-"

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I'm sorry about what happened to you, and I'm sorry if you thought I was being an ass, "Seth tilted to his side, pulling out a key and unlocking the barred door. "Go, I'll tell them you overpowered me and escaped," the mage froze looking at the open door. Seth rolled his eyes at the man's hesitation.

"Are you going or what?"

"Why? Why would you do this? It's-it's crazy," the mage stuttered, still he hadn't moved. Seth just smiled and held out a hand. "Come on, I already shifted the guard on duty with Rory, this is your only chance," Seth went to grab Ewan's hand, but stopped dead at that sickening noise.

_Ding-Ding_

His stomach fell, his knees became weak and his heart stopped.

_Ding-Ding_

The bell was ringing.

_Ding-Ding-Ding_

They were under attack.

_Ding-Ding-Ding _

"My lord! We need to move now!" Rory came to a stop behind the noble, Tennant hot on his heels. "What's happening? What does the bell mean?" said the Mage as he stood to his feet, looking around nervously as shouts started to echo around the stony halls. Seth's fists clenched and he all but growled under his breath.

"I'm going to kill that bastard!"

He ran, down the hall and up the stairs, into the courtyard where flames flickered and roared and soldiers clashed. He didn't have any armor. He didn't even have a weapon. But that didn't matter, he would kill every person in his way until he found that bastard.

One of Howe's men spotted him, the soldier raised his sword and pointed at Seth. The Teryn's son, unarmed and unarmored. If he could kill him, surely he would receive a hefty reward.

The soldier charged expecting an easy kill.

He was wrong.

Seth stood his ground as the knight came closer, flanked by two others. The first to reach the noble swung his sword downwards. Seth stepped into it before the blade could fall, grabbing the knight's wrist with one hand and his exposed throat with the other, in one push he lifted the knight from the ground and threw him to his back.

The second knight drew closer as Seth, while still hunched over and holding the first soldier, kicked out, collecting the knight's unarmored knee. The soldier screamed as his leg bent inwards and he fell to the ground in a heap.

The third yelled with his sword raised high, but slammed to the ground with the screeching sound of metal scrapping on stone when a black blur smashed into him and tore out his throat.

Seth, still holding the first knight who had attacked and been thrown to the ground, proceeded to grip both the knight's wrists, pull, and stomp down on the soldier's throat, crushing the enemy's airway and claiming the now free sword.

He stood straight without missing a beat and slashed at the second's throat, as they screamed through gargled blood, before snatching another sword from the knight's flailing hand. Rory caught up, running up the stairs and slamming his shield into another soldier before thrusting downwards and killing them.

"We need to find the Teryn and Teryna!" Seth didn't answer, instead he ran into the fray with both swords fanned out.

The left flicked out, slashing a soldiers throat.

The right sliced downwards, cutting open the backs of another's legs.

Still he kept running, swords flicking out at any knight that came to close. Rory killing off any that were still alive and Tennant barreling through any that jumped at the noble. Both hound and Knight were barely able to keep up with Seth as he rounded each corner.

"Mother!" Seth rounded a bend and found his mother backed into a corner, bow snapped and one knight loyally defending her from five separate soldiers. "You bastards!" Seth plowed through two swinging each of his blades in unison, both soldiers had a shocked look as their heads rolled along the stone floor.

"Seth! Oh thank the Maker," lady Cousland wrapped her arms around her sons neck as Ser Gilmore and Tennant took down a soldier each and Eleanor's loyal guard drove his blade through the last soldiers chest.

"Where is your father?"

"I don't know. We need to get to him now," Seth went to walk but Lady Cousland held his arm.

"Seth, they-they," she choked on her words. "They killed Oren and Oriana. I couldn't save them."

Seth's mouth dropped open and his chest became unbearably tight. They were dead. His nephew and step-sister. Dead. He could've saved them. Maker, what about Fergus?

What about his mother?

"It's not your fault mother. It's that bastard Howe, and I will make sure I kill him."

"Your Father he stayed up with Howe!"

"In the keep?" Eleanor nodded.

"Then we must check the keep-" Seth was cut off as an arrow pierced Eleanor's guards neck. "No! Gerrick!" She wept and held his hand as he spluttered some blood onto his beard. "Tennant! Kill," the beast growled and charged at the shaky knight trying to mount another arrow, he didn't make a noise as the Mabari chewed through his throat, picking up the bow in his mouth and bounding back to the group. The hound dropped the bow at Eleanor's feet and wagged his tail. "Good boy, Tennant," she looked to Gerrick and dried her tears. "You will be avenged, as will everyone."

"There they are! Men! Kill them."

A group of twelve soldiers emerged from a room, covered in blood. Rory and Seth stepped to the front of Eleanor as she nocked an arrow.

They all charged, metal banging and chainmail rattling.

A whizzing noise and hot sensation flew past Seth's ear. The ball of fire soared down the hallway and smashed into the first soldier, causing a deafening explosion on impact, leaving only three knights at the rear alive. One fell to Eleanor's arrow, another to Seth's thrown blade and the last screamed and began clawing at his own face, before collapsing dead. Ewan walked up behind them, dusting his hands.

"You're that mage. Who let you out?"

"I did mother, and if you didn't notice, he just saved our lives," said Seth as he picked up another sword, gripping it tightly. "Yeah, I figured I owed you. Lucky the circle teaches us how to blow people up," not a person smiled at then mage's joke.

"My lady! My lord!" A soldier ran out from a side room, a shield, sword and pouch of gold wrapped in his arms. "Terrance?" Rory approached the young knight, who nodded and grimaced. He was young, a fresh recruit. A young, pale face with blonde hair and brown eyes. He shakily answered his senior knight. "The Teryna gave me a key and told me to get this stuff from the treasury and hide," Ser Gilmore looked back at the lady and gave a grateful nod. He knew she had sent him to the room in hopes of protecting him.

Eleanor stepped forward and took the items from the squire. "Thank you, young knight, "despite situation, lady Cousland was still comforting and kind to the fresh knight. She turned to Seth and the loyal Cousland knight before speaking. "Now, Seth for you our family blade and all the gold in our treasury. And Ser Gilmore, our family shield. Keep them safe." Both the men nodded. Seth looked up at the blocked off hallway and back to the only door into the main keep "Ready yourselves. Rory, on me. Terrance protect mother, and Tennant kill anything that gets close," he looked back at the mage. "You can escape now if you want, I won't hold it against you."

"No, I want to help. There's a good chance I could die anyway."

Seth nodded and kicked the door open. The room was filled with Howe's soldiers and only a handful of guards. Despite having no armor Seth charge into the closest enemy, driving his blade through the gap where helmet meets chestplate. Another charged and he ducked under a wild swing, bringing his sword up and into the soldiers gut. He swung to his left with his free blade, as if he was in a dance, collecting a passing by knight in the head as he used the momentum to pull his other blade free. Another knight met him, swinging their sword downwards, yet it only meet clean air as Seth sprinted past him, tearing through another group of soldiers. The knight turned, ready to charge again at the noble but collapsed to the ground when a Mabari jumped on his back and ripped at the back of his neck.

More knights kept pouring through the now open gates until a fireball shot over the fray and crashed into one knight as he ran through. Just like before the ball exploded, taking a handful of lives and clogging the entrance with dead bodies. An enemy mage on the gates other side threw an arc of lightning over the pile of dead bodies, connecting with a guard and killing them. Ewan felt the surge in magic and waved a hand in the general direction, Howe's mage blinked once before collapsing to the ground asleep, the knights didn't notice the body and trampled over the sleeping mage, crushing bones and breaking skin with sharp armored boots.

Seth cut threw another soldier and whipped his head back, scanning the room.

Five of Howe's soldiers remained alive. Seth charged and slashed through one. Rory hacked into another's chest. Eleanor let loose an arrow which found another's heart. Three guards surrounded another and ruthlessly stabbed into the soldiers metal armor. The last was frozen solid from a flick of Ewan's wrist.

Four guards limped to the entrance, blocking arrows with their shields. They swung the two wooden doors closed and leant against them, panting heavily and gripping at bleeding limbs.

"Dammit! He isn't here. Soldier!" One uninjured soldier walked over to Seth and kneeled." Bloody void man! Don't kneel, not now. Where is the Teryn?" The soldier rose and pointed to another wooden door. "To the kitchen my lord," with that the soldier ran back to the doorway and pressed up against it as a continuous pound smashed out.

"Rory! Beside me again. We rescue father," the red headed knight glanced at the remaining guards. "No, my lord. I can't leave them, these men need me."

"Dammit, Rory! _I_ need you."

"I'm sorry, Seth. Terrance! Go with them, keep the Teryna safe. This is the end for me, Seth. May the Maker watch over you," the young noble swore as he watched Ser Gilmore run to the door and throw his body against it.

"Come on," he sprinted through the door to the kitchen, he didn't look back at his best friend. He prayed he would live. If by some small miracle he should survive, Seth would give anything to see him again.

: _ :

Another guard ran at his personnel escort only to be cut down in a less than noble death. Howe grinned. He was winning, his plan was succeeding. Soon the Cousland name would be wiped out and he, he would get the glorious power and wealth he deserved. No longer would he have to deal with that self-righteous idiot of a Teryn called Bryce. He felt good when he drove his knife into the man's unsuspecting belly. He felt the chill run up his arm, his skin shiver in excitement. He'd sent many sovereigns on forging that special knife to. Just for the occasion. Nothing would save that man.

Yes. After all this time he would get what he deserved.

: _ :

Seth slowed as he rounded a corner, his eyes shot wide in fury as he spotted Howe and four heavily armored knights. Said knights bashed continuously upon the wooden kitchen door.

He held his anger and ducked back. He couldn't lose control. He couldn't risk missing this opportunity. He heard Howe shouting at the door. "You can't run forever, Bryce!" Seth shook his head and punched the stone wall, still holding in the rage and urge to cut the man in two.

"Ewan, can you shoot a fireball at those bastards?" The mage glanced around the corner, taking measure of the opposition.

"They're too spread apart. I should be able to take out two and stun the rest though."

Seth swung both blades in his hands and nodded. "Do it," and at the nobles command a sizzling ball of fire flashed into existence above the mages hand. Ewan closed his eyes and breathed out deeply. The ball of fire waved and rolled, folding in on itself continually like it was water crashing against the confines of an invisible sphere.

As he exhaled he dove from the corner, thrusting his palm forward. The ball shot off almost too fast for eyes to track and crashed into the closest knight and as expected exploded upon impact. Shredded metal flew in every direction as one knight was blown apart, another fell dead, organs ruptured from the force. The last two knights were thrown to their backs, random pieces of metal littering their skin. And Howe, who was taking cover further down the hallway, shielded himself with both arms.

Before either knight could rise, Seth sprinted from where he were, dragging his blades along the ground. His unarmored body left him far more nimble than the downed knights, and before they could roll, each of his swords had dragged across their necks, slicing their throats open.

Howe watched in horror as the young Cousland sprinted for him, clothes splattered in blood and swords poised to strike.

He turned and ran, he could hear the Mabari padding across the stone after him and the chinks of arrows bouncing off the walls around him. He ran faster. As fast as he could. His plans were crumbling, this wasn't supposed to happen.

But an arrow struck his back. He fell, rolling and painfully snapping the arrow which still sat in his body.

He tried to crawl but a weight pushed him to the floor; all the air left his lungs as a boot slowly pushed down harder on his back.

"I'm going to enjoy this."

He was kicked in his side, rolled onto his back and left staring at the Cousland son.

"Sucks I don't have more time."

"I deserv-"

The Cousland family blade was driven through his neck before he could say anymore, chipping the stone floor below. Howe tried to move, tried to curse, but Seth twisted the blade and tore his throat completely open.

The man choked on his own blood until his vision faded and his great ambition was cut short.

Seth looked at the body expecting more. The anger was numbing, his drive disappearing to be replaced by a heavy sadness. He barely felt the hand on his forearm. "He deserved more for what he did to us. May the Maker punish his soul," Eleanor said looking away with disgust.

"Come on, Seth. We have to move. We have to get to your father," Seth barely heard the mage speak, but slowly nodded and pointed at the locked door.

The mage looked at it. He ran his hand down the wood and a glowing glyph appeared. He stepped back and covered his ears.

The door exploded, splinters and shards of metal fell to the floor around him.

Seth stepped through. Dead elven servants littered the floor, and Nan leant against a wall, the life having long left her body. The storage room door still remained open and a trail of blood was smeared across the floor. They all heard choked coughs and the banging of metal feet.

"Terrance, Tennant. Stay here and kill anyone who comes through. Ewan, with me."

Seth, the mage and Eleanor entered the room.

"Oh thank the Maker you both made it."

Teryn Cousland laid on the floor towards the back of the room, clutching at his bleeding hip. He winced and tried to move, but just collapsed back into a puddle of blood.

"Father!"

"Bryce!"

Both the Cousland's ran to the bleeding Teryn, Eleanor slid his head onto her lap and Seth grabbed his hand. "Howe, he betrayed us," Bryce looked to Eleanor and his son. "Don't worry father, he's dead. I killed him myself," the Teryn sighed at his son's words. "Ewan heal him. Please, heal him," the mage nodded and his hands lit up with a blue light. The Teryn winced as the black haired mage pressed his hands onto the wound and focused.

The blood still flowed.

Ewan erupted with blue waves of light as he poured all he had into the spell. Seth felt every ache he had disappear. Even Eleanor gasped in surprise when every gash on her body closed up.

Still Bryce Cousland's bleeding continued, pooling over the stone floor.

It wasn't healing.

The light gradually receded and Ewan panted heavily.

"I can't heal it, something's wrong," Seth panicked as he looked to the mage. "What do you mean!?" The mage sat back and wobbled. "It's rejecting the magic. I don't- I put everything into it," the mage wobbled one last time and passed out on the floor. "Bryce, what does he mean?!"Teryn Cousland winced again as he tried to move. "Howe said-"He coughed up a handful of blood. "Howe said no healing magic would ever help me when he stabbed me with his knife. I guess this is what he meant. But you have to escape, his army still pounds on our walls."

"The Teryn is correct. There is no hope of victory," Seth jumped to his feet and swung his blade out at the dark skinned man. "Woah boy, I mean you no harm."

"Duncan! Please take my son and wife. Take them and escape."

"No Father, I will not leave you."

"Neither will I, Bryce."

Bryce sighed and begged the Warden. "Duncan, please."

The Grey Warden knelt to the mage; he smiled knowing he was still alive. In one swift movement he hurled the unconscious body onto his shoulder. "I will take your son, but I did come for recruits."

Bryce looked up to his son. "Very well, he is yours for the Wardens. Just promise me he will live."

Duncan nodded but Seth shook his head.

"No! I will not leave you to die." Bryce looked to his son and smiled. He would make sure he survives. It was all that mattered to him. "It's alright pup. You must tell Fergus of what happened. Take your mother-"

"Hush Bryce, I'm staying. I will put an arrow into every bastard to come through that door."

Seth shook his head again, they were going to die. He couldn't help them. He was trying, but it meant nothing. He heard a whine and felt Tennant push up against his side.

"We're so proud of you Pup. We love you."

Seth tried to move closer to them. No matter what he wasn't going to leave. He would die before he left them. But something struck his head.

Hard.

Darkness crept in and his hearing numbed. He could hear Duncan talking to someone, he could feel himself being lifted. But only one noise made sense.

"We love you so much, Seth."

Those words dug into him, tore open his heart and didn't leave. The pain was the last thing he felt before his mind crashed under the wave of darkness.


	2. Chapter 2- Orzammars Prince

So! Chapter two. Average size. And I apologize but I only see them getting bigger.

Better start doing a disclaimer. All of Dragon age belongs too Bioware. OC's are mine.

And without further ado!

* * *

He could hear them bickering.

"You killed my son."

"You sent the assassin."

"You poisoned the apple."

He groaned and hung his head as he rest both hands on the wide doors to the dining hall. "Are you going in, my Lord?" Gorim. His loyal second. Where would he be without that Dwarf? More than likely dead. "Just mentally preparing myself for it," answered the second son of King Endrin Aeducan. Gorim stepped up with a sly smile. "You know there is a proving match being held in your honor, perhaps it might provide a needed distraction?" The prince grinned and pushed off the door with a hop in his step. "Let's go knock some heads, Gorim," he said as the loyal second laughed loudly and followed beside his lord.

Ross Aeducan, young second son of Endrin Aeducan. An average sized Dwarf in shining heavy plate. Soot coloured hair flowed to his shoulders with two braids tied along each side keeping his strong, straight lined face clear. Unlike the Dwarven norm his beard was short, tied into one braid which ran just to his shoulders. Hazel eyes scanned each crevice and every corner, after all he was the popular second prince of Orzammar, an assassin or two were just a part of his daily routine now.

"You deface my ancestors! I should kill you where you stand," a familiar voice to both Ross and Gorim, and, unfortunately, a familiar sight. Ross shuddered again as he walked down the dark stone carved palace steps. He sighed, just outside his castle walls and he was already met with one of Orzammar's finest traits. His patience snapped when he heard that insufferable voice a second time.

"Enough!" The noble's voice boomed with authority. The already cowering scholar flinched away further at the shout and the disgruntled dwarf swung around, face scrunched in rage and finger pointing at the noble prince. "Who the hell-"Not a word more escaped out as Ross's armored fist collided with the Dwarfs face, knocking them to the ground. Ross stood over the Dwarf, pointing a finger at the scholar. "Do you think I am unfamiliar with his work? I know exactly what he has written. I know exactly the methods he used to attain the information. And if it paints your ancestor in a bad light, I'm afraid you'll have to deal with it, history should and will speak the truth," the Dwarf still clutched at his nose as he grunted an insult and ran away.

"Thank you my-"

"No. Don't thank me. Learn how to defend yourself. You can't live in this city exposing the vile histories of some of its more influential ancestors and expect everyone to go along with it. Get a weapon by any means and learn. Very soon you'll have trouble on your door step."

The scholar bowed deeply before running back to the Sheperate. "Just one day, Gorim, just one day I'd like to go without all this convoluted idiotic Bronto shit," Gorim sighed and placed a hand on his lords shoulder. "Don't worry my lord, perhaps all the effort you've put into grooming Trian will pay off. He could very well lead this city into a new age," Ross snorted and waved a hand dismissively. "Oh I doubt that my friend, but anything is possible."

"What was that, brother?"

Gorim flinched and backed away, stepping behind his lord. Trian Aeducan stood over Ross with his arms crossed. Blonde hair and blonde beard, and a massive frame, far larger than the average dwarf. The second son shrugged. "Oh nothing you need concern yourself with," Trian stepped closer and peered down at his brother. "I heard you. The position of King is mine, little brother. Don't you dare get in my way," Ross shrugged again and stood to the side as Trian strode past. "Lucky break, brother," the second son felt a hand on his shoulder. Ross sighed. "I'm afraid not, I'll get a stern lecture tonight," Bhelen frowned and shook his head. "We need to discuss something, but tonight, after your lecture."

"What?"

Bhelen frowned again. "Tonight, brother," Ross sighed and watched his red haired sibling disappear into the crowd. "Let's go Gorim."

"Yes my Lord."

Ross felt frustrated. Annoyed and frustrated. For years he had been grooming Trian for the title of King. Still his brother suspected him of having his own agenda for the crown. He didn't understand why. Surely his brother knew of his intentions for a simple life. They used to talk at length, yet now, Trian brushed him off and wouldn't allow him in his presence. At least Bhelen still maintained a relationship with his brother. After all, he had acted as a mediator on many occasions. He was the only person Trian would listen to now. Maybe he could get Bhelen to talk some sense into the stubborn dwarf.

Ross sighed and tried to push it all aside. But the more he tried to ignore it, the louder it would become.

His heart started to ache when memories of assassins kicking down his door and poisoned laced meals crept their way in. Memories of once laughing with his brothers and sleeping peacefully, no worry of the person in the next room wanting him dead.

The title of king had divided the three brothers. Trian wanted what was rightfully his. Ross knew that he himself wanted to be as far away from it all as possible. And Bhelen, well, he didn't know what Bhelen wanted. But the boy had ambition. He'd seen it before. Just how much though, that was the question.

"We shall remain here my Lord," the royal guard commander bowed and gestured to a heavy stone door. Ross flinched, realizing just how unaware he was of where his feet were taking him. After an odd look from Gorim he coughed and addressed the guard. "At ease men. I need to release some stress," the prince grinned and swung the door open. "Proving Master!" An older man with grey hair looked up from his viewing spot. "Ah, my Lord! Have you come to watch the matches?" Ross clenched his fists. "No, fetch my battle axe. I shall test Orzammar's warriors today."

The crowd roared as Ross Aeducan stepped into the arena. He gripped his large axe and hoisted it into the air. The crowd only screamed louder.

This was what he wanted. A simple task. Hit and don't be hit. This was what he wanted.

His first opponent was easy enough. Duck and swipe shaft upwards. The moment his axes pommel connected with the dwarfs jaw, they fell to the ground unconscious.

The second was, again, easy. The woman ran, charged and thrust forward. Too simple he thought as he spun around the tip of her blade, swiping out his armored glove which connected with the side of her unarmored head. She too fell to the ground unconscious.

The third managed to clip his armor, for a time he stared at the scratch as his opponent boasted. With a thick smirk they charged again. Ross lunged forward, turning his axe so the flathead connected with his opponent's body. They hit the ground with a thump and limped off holding their injured ribs.

The last, the last made him smile. Frandlin Ivo. That Dwarf could fight. Where ever Ross swung he met a strong shield, held by an even stronger arm.

Frandlin smashed his round shield into the noble's chest, he didn't fall, and instead he staggered backwards, but caught himself. Ivo charge again, shield raised high. Ross ran at him, thankful his Dwarven armor was made of a light alloy. In two long bounds the dwarf dropped to his knees, straight shin guards sliding on the smooth floor. Frandlin grunted in pain when the prince slide under his charge, swinging his giant axe, while still on his knees, and collecting the dwarf's back. The force was too much and Ivo was lifted from the ground, flung to land on his chest and slide to a stop. Ross's own slide ceased and he slowly stood straight, walking to the other Dwarven warrior who rolled to this back in a daze. The prince pushed onto the dwarf's chest with an armored boot.

"Do you submit?" Ivo looked off to the crowd and sighed. "Yes, my lord Aeducan," the dwarf in question smiled and held out a hand as he stepped from the others chest. "You fought with strength I rarely see my friend, something bright in this vile city. You have earned this dwarfs respect, should the day come that you need me, I will be there," and at that Ross Aeducan gripped the others wrist and held it high to the roaring crowd.

: _ :

"I wouldn't trust him, brother." Bhelen whispered in the crown prince's ear. "He plots against you, he has come to me many times in hopes of swaying me to your side," Trian just stared at the mirror as Bhelen continued. "He plans to kill you at the expedition next waking. You must strike before he does and end his nefarious plan," still Train stared. "He wants the crown for himself; surely you have heard the rumors of his popularity?" Trian looked to his feet.

He was going to kill his brother; he was going to kill that traitor.

: _ :

Ross was, oddly, surprised when he attended the feast and found several grey wardens present. He had heard rumors, but ignored them for being purely rumors. Their leader, Darrian was a fair man of average height and short black hair. One eye was covered by a patch and he could see the scar starting and ending. Ross was feeling bold after several ales and approached the man. "How'd you get the scar?" Darrian looked to the dwarf with a leg of roast nug in hand. "Ever heard of a, Tenarhlin?" The dwarf shook his head. "Massive beast them, fur black as night and sharp claws too. Let's just say, it took my eye, but I took its life," the Warden answered with a haughty laugh and the noble nodded again, but lingered. The warden noticed his presence, putting down his meal and folding his arms. "What do want, my lord Aeducan?" The dwarf sighed, looking to the floor. Still, the ale in his hand encouraged him to speak. "What are the Wardens like? I mean, you kill Darkspawn all the time, it seems so simple."

"No, it's a burdened life. You wouldn't want to live it. You have the life of a prince my Dwarven friend. I would not recommend leaving it for something like this," Ross rubbed at his forehead with a free hand. He didn't expect the man to understand the Dwarven political life, but he had hoped he would be enthusiastic about him taking an interest. "Very well, Warden. I'm afraid I must bid you farewell and wish you glory in the roads. Too many ales, this room is starting to spin," Darrian frowned at the prince's sudden departure, but inclined his head in a form of farewell. He had not intended to upset the dwarf, he just didn't want him getting sucked into all the bluster the Grey Wardens seem to garner in Orzammar. Still, he had heard of the princess prowess in battle, and recruits were of desperate need.

"My boy! You leave your own feast so early?" Ross sighed as his father shouted out across the hall from his throne, Trian sneered from his seat next to the king, Bhelen was nowhere in sight. Every person assembled turned and looked to him. He felt small under their gaze, but answered none the less. "Yes, I'm afraid this prince has had too many ales. I don't know about my esteemed guest gathered here tonight but I'm positive spewing on the Spawn' will most likely get me run through," a majority of the present company roared in drunken, sloppy laughter and went back to their bickering and talking. His father sent a concerned gaze from his seat, Ross smiled and left.

: _ :

"I got you out of that prison for a reason, Casteless," Bhelen spat at the women in front of him. She gripped her daggers tightly. "Sod off. I don't owe you anything," the third son sneered. "Then I'll just give you back to, Jarvia."

"Fine! What do you want?"

"An easy task, I want you to poison my brother. Ross, must not be in his fittest form if, Trian, is to kill him," the women nodded with her jaw clenched.

: _ :

The hallway was quiet. He could faintly hear the sound of music and laughter behind him. He didn't care about that anymore. Gorim had tried to follow him, but he dismissed the dwarf. His second was reluctant to leave, but would not disobey a direct order. So now, alone, he walked the dark halls to his chambers. He wanted to get away from this. Get away from it all.

He liked the idea of being commander of the forces tomorrow. Leading men into battle. He could do that. All he had to worry about was killing and making sure his people survived. So much more honorable than the deceitful world he lived in now.

The life of a Grey Warden. He could do that too. Regardless of what Darrian had said, he would give up his current life in a heartbeat.

The tapping of footsteps drew the prince from his thoughts.

"Ross! Wait a minute," an old voice. But familiar. Pyral Harrowmont, a loyal man and his fathers most trusted friend.

"Yes?" Ross sounded tired and Harrowmont winced. "I just came to check if you're alright on behalf of your father."

"I'm fine. I just want to be in good shape for tomorrow," Harrowmont nodded and the prince turned to leave. "One second," Ross jumped in fright as the old man grabbed his shoulder and spun him. Harrowmont frowned, choosing his words carefully. "I know it's a hard life. I know you want to leave. But your family needs you."

"I-I know, I know," the prince nodded as Pyral held him by both arms, looking him in the eye. "It is a weight that you must bear. And, may the ancestors watch over you next waking."

Ross sighed as he watched the old dwarf disappear back to the feast. He went on his way again, head hung low.

He pushed his heavy door open to his dimly lit, stone walled chambers. A shadow lurched in the corner of the room but he paid it no mind. The prince collapsed onto the soft bed and ran his hands down his face before speaking. "You know if you're going to kill me you may as well get it over with," no answer. "Just come out, I know you're there," a few light footsteps were heard and a hooded dwarf emerged from the shadows. "So, which house hired you? Ivo, maybe? I did thrash him today, but no, he was an honorable enough man," the dwarf didn't say a word. "Maybe this is a little closer to home. Trian, perhaps? No, no. He's too hot headed for assassins. That leaves Bhelen."

"How did you guess that? Ancestors! Why don't you care that your own brother wants you dead?" It was a female voice, rough and vicious. Ross sat up and swung his legs off the bed. "Because I'm tired, tired of doing this same Bronto shit."

"What do mean?"

"So oblivious to the politics of it all? You must be a Casteless," the woman grunted and drew two daggers. "Got a problem with that?" The prince laughed and waved at her dismissively. "Not at all. Quite frankly, I've never cared for the whole cast system. I would abolish it, given the chance."

"But you're the second prince of Orzammar for Ancestors sake! Surely you could do something?" The noble laughed a second time. "Unfortunately, no. To many corrupt houses, to many deep seated traditions. But that's beside the point, what did my dear brother request of your services?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because I could have you killed in a second."

"He wanted me to poison your pitcher there."

"Did you?"

"No."

"Good," the woman sheathed her daggers. "What will you do to me now?" Ross sighed and dug into his pocket. "Here," he threw a leather pouch which she nimbly caught, it jingled in her hand. "Should be about twenty gold in there, give or take. Take care of your family, or whoever is close to you," the Dwarf stood there dumbfounded. She could count how many times someone showed her kindness on one hand alone. The prince frowned at her. "Well go on, shoo. I'm tired."

"Thank you. Just, thank you. I owe you one."

"You don't owe me anything, go home," at his command the casteless left without another word and the noble rolled back and closed his eyes.

"Brother," a small whisper rung out as his slowly opened them back up. "Brother, we need to talk," Bhelen. That assassin must be good if she slipped past him without the third son noticing. Or maybe he did notice and assumed the job done. Ross still groaned and pulled a pillow over his head.

"Yes, Trian wants me dead. See you tomorrow."

"What? How did you-"Bhelen ducked as a water filled pitcher smashed on the door behind him. "I'm tired, Bhelen. See you tomorrow," he heard the door close as Bhelen made his exit.

: _ :

Retrieve the shield of Aeducan. Ross was almost surprised at his father's mission. Did he want to keep him away from Trian? Was he protecting him? Or did he think he would kill him? Did he even know about his sons scheming? He was made commander to lead troops, not search ruins. He shook his head, collecting the shield of Aeducan was nothing compared to keeping his brothers alive. Something was going to happen. If he wasn't going to kill Trian like Bhelen wanted, something was going to happen. He didn't want either to become a murderer. "My lord, we're going down the wrong path," Gorim spoke up when the prince changed direction. "We're stopping Bhelen," was all he said.

Gorim didn't argue and Frandlin instantly divulged what Bhelen had told him to do. Ross, again, wasn't surprised. After all, the Ivo family was a noble one and his word would not be questioned should he say Ross had murdered Trian.

They came across a scout, naturally another ploy by Bhelen. The man panicked and drew on Ross, but met his end on Ivo's blade.

A few Darkspawn too jumped from hidden crevices, but Gorim and Frandlin made short work of them. And then, at last, they found Trian standing with his guard, barking orders in his usual pompous attitude. He spotted Ross and scowled. "So you've come to kill-"before he could react the second son swung an armored fist and collected his large nose. Trian hit the stone floor with a loud thud. His men shouted and drew their blades. "Stand down, **_now_**!" Each soldier took a step back at the second prince's shout and hesitantly put their weapons away. "What do you think you're-"

"Shut up, Trian."

"How dare-"Every person present heard a snap as the crown prince was punched again. "You are going to sit there, and you are going to listen."

"I should have you-"Another snap came from the first sons face. "Just listen to me, Trian," the dwarf didn't say another word. He just sat on the ground, gripping at his bleeding nose. "Good. Do you understand why I'm more popular than you?" Trian mumbled under his breathe. "I'll take that as a no. Well, Trian, I am more popular than you for two reasons. One, being that I am a kind person who treats everyone fairly. And two, being the fact that I actually connect to the people and understand what this city is."

"I am the king Orzammar needs, traitor."

"Bronto shit! I have been grooming you for so, so long, Trian. Yet you are still that gruff, pompous, hot headed idiot! When are you going to realize that it's only going to get you killed? Right now, you're what Orzammar needs least."

"You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Like hell I don't! I want you to be king. Somewhere inside of you, buried beneath all of you, is the king Orzammar needs, Trian. Please. I'm begging you. Believe me. I remember when we were young, and you, you used to be so nice, so happy. I looked up to you. Than something happened, you became this arrogant idiot! Please be the brother I used to look up to you," Trian looked his brother up and down before scowling. "Bhelen, was right. This is all just a ploy so you can get my throne!"

"Exactly, brother!" Bhelen emerged from a stony corridor, a wicked grin plastered against his face. The third son idly swung a blade in his hand. "He just wants you dead. The moment you turn your back he's ordered his men to kill you. Isn't that right, Ivo?" Frandlin shuffled his feet, looking at the stone wall. Did Bhelen expect him to go along with this changed plan? "Well, Ivo?" Bhelen pressed again.

"No. No, you ordered me to lie! Lie about my lord Aeducan killing the prince," Bhelen scowled as he spoke. "You fool! I had everything planned. I was going to get the crown, it was mine! No, I can't allow this. I will get my crown. Men! Kill them," Trian's guard unsheathed their blades and charged at the downed prince. Time slowed as Ross and his two men drew their own weapons.

"NO!"

Trian closed his eyes expecting a blade to drain him of his life. His arms rose out of his control and he stopped breathing.

Six smashes rang out of metal colliding on metal.

His eye's opened to see Frandlin and Gorim blocking a soldier each. His brother however, the one he thought out for his blood, had four swords pressed against his own axe and body.

"You," the second prince said. "Will not touch him!" A feral roar thundered across the stony ceiling as Ross pushed each guard back and swung with unrestrained fury. One swing and a soldier fell dead.

Another and a second guard twitched on the stone floor.

The last two took a step back as Ross advance.

He swung, clipping one and knocking him to the ground. The second wasn't as lucky as the axe continued through, releasing their head from their shoulders.

Ivo and Gorim cut down their opponents as the second son bought an armored boot to the last breathing knight's neck, crushing their airway.

"No. This can't be happening. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Trian was supposed to kill you. The prince commits genocide out of jealousy. It was supposed to happen. Dammit! I'll kill you myself for ruining my plans!" Bhelen ran at the other Dwarves, beyond reason, beyond help.

Both Frandlin and Gorim looked to Ross, shocked to see his face emotionless. The second son watched his younger brother coming to kill him.

He dropped his axe and spread his arms wide with both eyes closed.

He would die before he killed his brother.

And that was when he heard it. The gargle of blood and gasp of shock that came when someone felt their life being syphoned away. He opened his eyes and saw Trian standing before him, Bhelen hunched over the prince with a sword protruding from his back. Ross stepped forward with a hand out, his breathing shallow.

"Bhelen?" No answer. "Bhelen? Please don't die. I don't want you to die. Not now. Not because of the crown. Bhelen? Bhelen, please answer me," Ross said. Yet, no reply came as Trian stood back and the youngest Aeducan's body fell to the ground, dead.

Ross screamed and Trian's face fell blank.

: _ :

"Why are you leaving now?" Gorim pleaded to his lord. "Bhelen died, Gorim. Died because of this disgusting place we live in. I can't do this anymore. I don't want this life."

"What about Trian?" Gorim glanced to the side. "What about me?"

"I want you to stay and help, Trian. He's on the right path now. I just want him to stay on it. Everything will be okay without me," Gorim still looked to the side as tears started to stream down his face. "So that its? You're just leaving? Going to join the Grey Wardens?" The crying Dwarf jumped when Ross wrapped his arms around him. "I'm sorry, Gorim. I really am. I'll come back one day. Just not now. I need to get away," Gorim wiped his cheeks and chuckled. "I'm going to miss you."

"Me too, Gorim. Is Trian still in his room?" Ross asked. The moment the expedition had ended Trian and Endrin locked themselves away, refusing to be seen. "Yes, my lord." Gorim said. Ross sighed. "Give him this letter when he comes out. He'll be okay. Father has, Harrowmont. Now, Trian has you."

"I'll make him the king you dreamed of, my lord."

"I'll hold you to it. But, I must make a hasty leave now. The Wardens wait for me outside the gates. I'm lucky their expedition fell through."

"It's been an honor serving you my lord."

Ross smiled. "You mean more to me than anything. I'll be back. I couldn't live without my best friend," and with that he left the chambers. Left his life.

Left it all.

: _ :

"Ah! My lord Aeducan, good to see you are joining us. I would not push back a recruit, but you are important to this city, is this truly what you want?" Ross looked to the snowy Frostback Mountains and smiled. "It's just, Ross. And it hurts at the moment, but yes. Truly, yes," the senior warden nodded and signaled the departure. The former prince fell in line before chuckling as he spotted a familiar hooded dwarf. "Fancy seeing you here, actually, I never got your name?" The dwarf threw her hood back revealing brown, almost black eyes and long black hair tied into a braid. Two lines tattooed the cheek of a pretty, slim face.

"It's, Rainas Brosca."

"Well, Rainas, try not to poison me aye?"

"Sod off, your highness."

: _ :

Trian looked at the letter Gorim had handed him. Sealed with his brothers mark and light in weight. He sighed as he unfolded it and began to read.

'Well, Trian. Looks like I'm leaving. I'm sorry that it has to be this way. I'm a coward, running away like this. But, I can't do this anymore. I lost Bhelen to it. Despite what he did, ancestors he was my brother. I know right now that you feel it all, feel it all crushing down on your shoulders. I felt it for so long too, and I'm not strong enough to hold it. I know you are, Trian. Orzammar needs you. Needs the old you. The Trian who I loved so long ago. I know you will save this city, I know you can.

Goodbye brother.

Ross Aeducan'

* * *

Review time!

Mike (Guest)- We may, I haven't decided on a male or female Mahariel yet. But geez it would be great for drama. Plus, I need more female Wardens, so it might just happen.


	3. Chapter 3A- Aftershock

So! Long time no update. I've been a bit busy and I apologise.

However, this chapter isn't particularly note worthy. Maybe even a little unrealistic.

Oh, and its called Chapter 3A because it will be happening simultaneously with the next chapter which will be Chapter 3B

All thing Dragon age belong to our fine friends at Bioware.

Enjoy!

* * *

The camp was dreary, for lack of a better word. Duncan sat at the fire, somberly gazing into the flickering flames, occasionally throwing a dry stick to the coals. Terrance had told Ewan that for hours upon hours straight the Commander of the Grey had jogged with the mage draped over his shoulder, wobbling and jiggling from side to side in his unconscious state. The young blonde haired knight had too escaped with Duncan, purely to drag the also unconscious Cousland Pup as best he could, while still covering the drag tracks despite it all. And finally a jet black Mabari had trotted ahead of the group with his nose to the air sniffing for any threats. And with the sounds of battle behind them and the moon high into the night's sky infront of them, the two conscious men had escaped as fast as their bodies would allow.

The morning had inevitably come and gone, and late into the afternoon both young men regaining consciousness. Ewan was dazed and confused when he had sat up from dusty ground. He blinked a few times before Duncan knelt to his eye level and announced he was now a Grey Warden recruit. He honestly didn't know what to do, so he just stared at the ground trying to take in all that had happen.

Seth on the other hand had woken with a start, searching his surroundings like a mad man before shooting to his feet and sprinting back in the direction the group had come. The mage tried to follow, but his body was weak, and after one shaky step he fell to the ground again. Still, his own intervention was unneeded as Seth didn't make it far before Duncan, despite his age and wrinkles, had grabbed the Cousland's arm and begun dragging him, protests and all, back to the camp ground. Seth ripped his arm back the moment Duncan stopped dragging him and shouted at the Warden, venting his frustration and sadness with a hideous scowl. Duncan just stared with a blank face as Terrance, the young Highever night, tried in vain to calm his Lord.

Ewan had watched the spectacle, eyes still half closed, betraying the actual concern he felt. He fiddled with the hem of his tattered brown cloak in an attempt to distract himself from it all. But he couldn't block out the familiar _shing _sound_._ He'd heard it before, even seen it before. In the Tower, he remembered when that noise echoed down a hall, he would hang his head knowing the number of mages was to become one less.

And it was happening now in front of his eyes; Seth Cousland had unsheathed his family's blade, previously holstered to Terrance's waist, the lightning quick swing left little more than a grey blur in the air. Yet despite the sudden motioned, Duncan had still ducked out of harm's. Again the noble advanced with the sword held to his side, and with one scream of utter fury, the Cousland swung his sword in a wide ark, attempting to relieve Duncan of his head.

Yet the brown haired swordsman gasped as the Warden Commander flashed forward faster than Ewan's eyes could follow and threw a metal plated fist into the Cousland's lightly clothed belly. He watched as Seth staggered backwards and doubled over on the ground wheezing and coughing in a futile attempt to get even a little oxygen into his body again. Ewan crawled shakily to the Cousland's side putting a hand on the man's shoulder, only to have it roughly shrugged off as Seth rose, hurling his finely crafted blade aside and stomping off without a word or a glance to anyone.

The clearing, just how it was before the men arrived, had regained its silence once again.

Terrance had picked up the thrown blade and sheathed it back to his waist.

Tennant, the loyal Mabari, had whined sadly.

And Duncan had muttered an 'I'm sorry' under his breath before massaging his temples.

Ewan himself had only frowned and sighed.

So it had stayed that way, only three men and a fretting Mabari. The sun had set, wood had been gathered, and makeshift bedding had been set out.

And now, as Ewan watched his Warden Commander stare at the ever dancing orange flames deep in thought, heavy careless footsteps thumped from the trees around him as the Cousland emerged from the dark line. He didn't look at anyone, didn't speak a word. Ewan could see the blood dripping from the noble's knuckles. "Seth… you're bleeding. I can heal it though," Ewan tried to grabbed the man's hands but the warrior only glared with sunken bloodshot eyes and, while ignoring each person present, walked to the edge of their make shift camp. In the shadow of a tree the Cousland became invisible.

Ewan knew the man was mourning. Everything the Cousland had felt, and shown was gone. Instead it was all replaced with the harsh reality that both his parents, his friends, everyone he had loved were long since murdered by Howe's soldiers. In one night Seth had lost everything, and Ewan didn't know what to do.

Seth was broken. Drowning in a sea of depression, and he wasn't even trying to swim.

Only the loyal hound was brave enough to approach him. Tennant let out a soft whine, asking something only his own master would truly understand.

The Mabari got no reply.

: _ :

Morning broke with a bright vigor, Terrance thought. He enjoyed those few moments of peace before all the worry, pain and sadness came crashing back down, and when they did his gut wrenched and heaved at the flood of emotions.

He looked for a distraction.

The fire was long since out. Little more than a pile of black coals. He reached forward to poke at it with a thin twig, hopeful he might spurn it back to life.

"Don't bother. We make for Denerim when Ewan can walk."

Terrance had jumped at the tired voice from behind him, but his highly strung nerves relaxed when his eyes fell upon Duncan. "Yes, sir. If I may ask, where is my lord Cousland?" Duncan merely turned his head to the tree line showing an awake Seth, sitting with his eyes open and fingers locked under his chin. The warrior didn't acknowledge the fact his name had been spoken, instead continuing to stare at nothing.

Terrance wondered if the man had heard him. Maybe he hadn't, maybe he'd better get closer and check on him.

Yet the Young Knight only took several steps before stopping when he got a closer look at his lord. The once youthful and cheerful face Seth Cousland possessed had all but disappeared. His eyes were unrecognizable, bloodshot as they were. Thick, heavy, black bags occupied his usually clear white eyelids. His hair was matted with the blood of Howe's slain soldiers and the cut from where Duncan had knocked him out with the pommel of his dagger. And his once expensive clothing was torn, dirtied and bloodied. It scared the young knight to see his greatest aspiration so defeated.

Terrance sunk back to ground with his eyes half closed, glancing off to the side. Everything was gone. Everyone was dead. Maker, what was he going to do?

No.

He had to be strong for his lord. It was his duty as a Highever knight.

He heard a light laugh from behind him. "Jowan. I mean come on, it's only gonna' make them itchy. It'll be funny," the mage laughed lightly again with his eyes closed and cheek soaked in a puddle of drool. "Those cookies are delicious mam," the mage continued making incoherent sentences without any hint of waking up. Terrance threw a hand to his own mouth in an attempt to stifle his laughter, but it was too late and he snickered loudly. The mage, now awake, made a few dry claps with his mouth and opened one eye. "I hate the Fade," was all he said as wiped the drool onto his worn (And stolen) shirt sleeve. "Can you walk?" Duncan looked to the mage who was still perched on the ground awkwardly. "Yeah, no problem. Just don't expect me to throw any fireballs," the mage looked around expecting a laugh.

Yet there was nothing.

Duncan continued as if the mage hadn't even spoken. "We make for Denerim. If we marched now we can make it to Roackalin by nightfall. After a nights rest we leave at day break and should arrive at Denerim in another two days time after tomorrow. We will spend one day searching for recruits. Whether we find one or not we leave for Ostagar, passing through the Brecilian forest. We will not actively search out the Dalish, however if we stumble upon them it would be wise to discuss potential recruits."

Terrance nodded. He had nowhere else to go, and he had to follow and protect his lord. This meant he would go where ever Seth went.

Ewan stood, dusting himself off. "Alright, I'd love a good meal. Haven't eaten anything beyond an apple in two days," Duncan looked at his recruit and sighed before digging into a leather pouch strapped to his waist. "Here, take this," the Warden threw a dried piece of meat at the mage who ate it as fast his mouth could chew. Duncan fished out another and threw it to Terrance. The knight was going to object, saying he didn't need it, but the Commander was already busy giving into the Mabari's wide puppy eyes. "Lucky for you I need all my soldiers fed."

The blonde haired knight looked over at his lord. He was relieved to see the man was now standing, although staring at the road ahead. Should he ask Duncan if he has any dried meat for Seth? As if the Warden was privy to the knight's thoughts he approached with the last piece of meat in hand. "Make sure he eats this," was all Duncan had said as he handed the meat to Terrance.

The knight steeled himself with one deep breath before approaching the Cousland. "Here, my lord," Seth didn't acknowledge his presence. "Please my lord, you have to eat," despite Terrance's pleading the noble turned and walked down the worn dusty road.

"Andraste's knickers- he is not handling this well. But, how are you?" spoke the mage as he stood beside Terrance, taking the piece of meat and eating it. "He's all I have now," was all the boy said as he watched the Cousland walk away slowly with Tennant jumping around excitedly, trying his best to raise his master into a higher mood.

: _ :

Roackalin, similar to every other small village Ewan had passed through in his hasty escape from the circle. Its outskirt land was littered with barely successful farm fields. Its center bustled with a handful of travelers and merchants. A blacksmith hammered away at red hot metals and a few farmers peddled their wares.

Yes, the town was the very meaning of simple.

"We will be staying at the Boulder Reach Inn. Make sure you rest well, who knows what the forest will have waiting come tomorrow."

A few villagers threw curious glances at the two heavily armored men and unarmored, yet blood covered noble. "So, since I'm a Grey Warden, that means I'm beyond the Templars jurisdiction, right?" Duncan nodded before he spoke. "You are not yet a Grey Warden, merely a recruit. But yes, the chantry holds no power over you now," Ewan grinned mischievously. "Sounds perfect."

"Hey! Just what are you people doing in our village, hey? We don't welcome ones so heavily armed, you should leave before there's trouble," a seemingly normal man spoke from the crowd. Ewan simply walked to the man and held out his hand at the scowl of disgust. At first the villager's scowl deepened, but gave into a frown of confusion at the mage's seemingly random action.

That was until said mage's hand light up in flames, incinerating the villagers eyebrows and beard. "Idiot, nosy, simpleton fool. He's lucky his hair will grow back," the villager ran, screaming into the distance. Duncan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "… I'd prefer if you didn't antagonize these people, Ewan."

"Fine, fine. I'm sorry," the mage apologized with a roll of his eyes. It was just a joke. He'd of put the villager out if they'd lit on fire.

"Sir Ewan. Where is my lord Cousland?" Poor Terrance. Still loyally following the Cousland. The entire walk to Roackalin Terrance had stuck beside Seth. Yet, the noble didn't say a word. He didn't even look at the young knight. "Relax kid," the Amell mage spoke. "We'll find him. You check the inn and I'll look everywhere else," Terrance bowed lightly and followed after Duncan towards the surprisingly large inn.

Ewan, thinking back on the day, was annoyed at the Cousland noble. He understood the man was grieving, after all, the death of one's family is never a good thing to have weighing on your shoulders. Yet the man had been acting, like an idiot he supposed.

The mage backtracked the way they had entered the town. Villagers and merchants gave him worried and curious glances alike. _'Totally worth it,' _he thought as he kept walking, not even bothering to confront a single person.

He looked around at the buildings, looking for a recognizable mark of some sort. Rundown house, large house, grey house… Yes, the grey house, he was heading in the right direction.

The sun was beginning to set, casting waves of bright orange light over every crevice it could possible reach. Ewan groaned and bought a hand to his forehead, creating a shadow over his eyes. And with the convenient shadow he looked out into the distance.

Nothing but trees and ploughed fields.

"Where the bloody void did he go?" He muttered to himself, still squinting into his surroundings.

And then he saw the man.

Seth sat at the base of a tree, staring at the ground like a lifeless puppet.

"Yoo-hoo! Where are you, you noble brat?" Just like the Cousland had down to him in the dungeons.

Yet the noble didn't move. He didn't even twitch.

He just kept staring at the ground.

Ewan came closer, stopping a few feet from the sitting Cousland.

"What are you doing?" No reply. "You can't talk? Mabari got your tongue?" Still Seth didn't reply. Ewan sighed. "I've never been good at this sort of stuff you know," the mage began. "I was always more of a class clown. I never had any words of wisdom. I can't even relate to you, I never knew my family," the mage crossed his arms. "But I had friends. I loved them, and they loved me. I would have done anything for them, you know? Maker, I did everything I could for Jowan."

Seth still didn't move. He didn't' even blink. It was like he had completely shut down.

It was unnerving.

"I know you lost them. I know you lost everything. But I'll be damned if I let you keep doing this. Look at yourself. You think your parents would be proud? Do you think they would be honored to call you their son?" Seth's jaw clenched. "Grieve. Mourn. Feel sad all you want. But you can't keep doing this. Did you even notice that kid who's been following you around? The one who has been trying his damn hardest to talk to you? He lost everything too. He's barely a grown man and he is still more concerned about you than himself. And what do you do? Nothing. Your too concerned with feeling sorry for yourself, you didn't stop for one second to think about that boy."

Seth Cousland finally moved, punching the ground with a fist. "Everything's gone! They're dead! What am I supposed to do?!" He shouted at the mage as he stood to his feet and loomed over Ewan. Still, despite the anger plastered across the man's face, Ewan didn't waver, his voice didn't even quiver. "You keep walking," He answered. "With one leg in front of the other, you just keep walking and be the man your parents would be proud of."

Seth's head dropped and he punched the tree he had been leaning against.

: _ :

The inn's rooms weren't half bad. Definitely better than the knights quarters he had become so accustomed to.

And he would be sharing with Seth.

If he was even still here. He couldn't find his lord and Sir Ewan had yet to return.

What if something had happened? He had to find his lord.

The last strap on his leather boots had been done up and the young knight made for the door.

_Knock-Knock_

Who could that be? An inn maid maybe?

"… Um… Come in," he spoke with a hint of hesitation.

At first the door didn't open and he figured the person on the other side had not heard him. Yet before he could speak again the door slowly opened to the sound of squeaking hinges.

And there stood his lord, covered in dirt and blood. Terrance stepped forward, almost not believing it to be him.

Then, without a moments warning, Seth Cousland fell onto him. At first the knight thought he had simply fallen. But, the man's arms squeezed so tight he feared he would be able to breath.

His neck started to tickle too, like rain was trickling down his skin.

And then it felt wet.

And before he knew what was happening, the man he was supposed to protect and serve with his life was crying on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Terrance. I'm so sorry," that had been all Seth spoke, but it was all it took for everything that had been pushed down to come flooding out.

Both the men cried well into the night for all, and everyone, that they had lost.

* * *

Review time

Maria-the-Fox: I'm glad to hear so, sorry if this one disappoints though. Just wait until we get to the Dalish origin.

LiveFastDieBeautiful21: Haha I'm glad you're excited (Love the name by the way).

C. : Hit the nail on the head there, her ranger-ness will be unique. From what I've read anyhow.

Keep those reviews coming people!


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